


The Other Side

by missema



Series: Iladia Shepard [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Destroy Ending, F/M, Mass Effect 3, Mass Effect 3: Citadel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're supposed to save the known universe, and all the people in it.  It's a tall order that will likely include sacrifices no one wants to make.  Not so long ago, Admiral Hackett wouldn't have put anything above the mission, but that was before he fell in love.  Iladia Shepard hasn't felt all about the mission since Cerberus brought her back.  Once they acknowledged the love between them, priorities began to shift and now both wonder, how can they be expected to give it all up for everyone else again?  Stolen moments set in Mass Effect 3 and follows the story line (mostly).</p><p>M for sexual content, drinking, longing and the end of days.</p><p>It's not necessary to read From Both Sides before this story, but it does tell the tale of Shepard and Hackett before ME3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. About Face

**Author's Note:**

> This lovely story is part of the ME Big Bang. Let me thank a few people:
> 
> Thank you first of all to my wonderful artist, Dragonicora. Alex did both of the magnificent pieces of art that accompany my story, and was wonderful to work with.
> 
> My stalwart beta, rolf, who reads everything I write, even when I don't publish it.
> 
> And finally the MEBB mods, who are awesome.

"God knows I didn't mean to fall in love with her."  
\- Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

 

"Mother, you should know that I am going to turn myself in." Shepard spoke softly into her omni-tool to record the message. Her mother was unreachable on some mission, but she couldn't just go to prison without doing something, trying to explain the situation at least a little before she was cut off.

"I know that you've always believed in me, and taught me to do the right thing, even when it was the hard thing to do. Well, I am turning myself in because I did the right thing in my mind, but a lot of people are dead because of it. No matter who I've worked for in the past, I'm an Alliance soldier, just like you and dad. So I'm probably going to be inaccessible for a while." Shepard took a deep breath. "Know that I love you, Mother." She finished, before ending the recording.

Before she could wait to think on it any more, she sent it off into oblivion, hoping that it would find her mother before the Alliance decided to delete or hijack it to indicate her guilt.

Not that she was protesting her innocence really, but still, every little scrap of admission would be something for the batarians to pounce on. There were so many things she'd change if she could and the mission to save Dr. Kenson wouldn't be the first of them. It still weighed heavy on her heart and stole away her sleep at night, leaving Shepard with bruises under her worried eyes. This was just the latest in a long list of disappointing resolutions to problems without satisfactory solutions. She'd learned to live with them long before.

She sighed - at least her very recent memories weren't terrible. Saying goodbye to the members of her crew that chose to leave before she headed back to Earth, there was a lot of gratitude and understanding. They knew her. Miranda's fierce hug lingered in her mind, as did Jacob's jovial backslap and crisp salute. They'd been the last to go before Shepard ordered Joker to turn the Normandy around and head for Vancouver.

She was going to miss them all, more than she could say. This was another time that Shepard was going someplace and leaving her crew behind. At least this wasn't into the stillness of space and her strange resurrection, but rather just the end of her career. Shepard didn't hold any illusions about what the Alliance would do to her, working with Cerberus was enough of a sentence on its own, let alone her unofficial, unsanctioned mission for Admiral Hackett out in batarian space.

There at least was some glimmer of hope for the future. The galaxy was full of ex-soldiers that worked and lived. Zaeed Massani was ex-Alliance himself, and though she had no interest in being a bounty hunter or starting a gang, he had helped her take out the Collectors. There was good that could be done out of a uniform. To think on it, maybe she was still even a Spectre, though she wasn't sure how that would work for her if the Reapers attacked. Even her slender hopes dimmed at the thought of the Reapers, and she fixed her mind on them instead of fleeting moments of self pity. There was more than her career at stake here. She could take her punishment with grace - at least give her a chance to think about how best to hit the Reapers again.

#####

"Much of your pain is self-chosen.  
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.  
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:  
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen" - Khalil Gibran - On Pain

 

Commander Shepard slept an awful lot during those first days back on Earth. It was unusual that she had so much time, stretches of hours where she would be uninterrupted and had no pressing engagements to wake up for. Had it not been a prison, it would have almost been like a spa. She laughed at herself for making the strange comparison, but she did. She ate, she slept, she talked to the Alliance both the people sent to evaluate her for mental stability and discipline. Iladia didn't care what either group thought of her. She slept, worked out with her guards and didn't try to leave. There was no place for her to go.

That's all they really concerned themselves with. She wasn't trying to run back to Cerberus or her ship - a ship she was sure was far away from her being dismantled. Shepard tried not to think about. It had to be worse for Joker to think about than her, she was sure. Instead she thought about herself, and had the time to do it, for the first time since she woke up in a Cerberus lab. 

Her thoughts weren't a jumble as the Alliance expected. No, she was surprisingly clear headed about everything, but distant. Shock, the doctors said, cautioning those that had to be around her. She was in shock. Perhaps it was just a convenient excuse to explain away her behavior, or maybe she really was. Shepard didn't know one from the other at this point. There was a lot of her life that was missing, things that didn't connect. One moment she was saving Joker, and the next she was waking up to the sound of Miranda's voice telling her to get moving. It was difficult to reconcile the oddities of her life and the pressures of her command sometimes. Shock seemed to be the all purpose fit.

The advisable course of action wouldn't have been to go straight into a mission trying to solve the mystery of the disappearing colonies. She could have taken time to ease back into life and let someone else handle the war, but Shepard never did the easy things. Once she had come back though, nearly everyone had a mission for her, a problem that needed her to solve it, a enemy only she could shoot. That's what led her to Dr. Kenson, because Admiral Hackett called and she could never, ever say no to him, even if she wasn't Alliance. He occupied a spot nearer to her heart than duty, and if he wanted her to undertake a rescue, he need only ask. In retrospect, it seemed like blind devotion might have contributed to her current situation a little too much.

Maybe it hadn't been the best time to start an affair, with the deaths of so many weight down upon her. But her refuge were private thoughts that were of no concern to the Alliance as they pressed her for a reason, some explanation for Aratoht. She answered their questions and thought about Steven, the twitch of his mustache as he hid a smile, the way he kissed - like a drowning man breaking the surface - and all that was to come between them. For a brief moment, they'd nearly drowned in the tide together, after years of fighting an attraction to each other. The memories they'd created in one night together were as sacred as anything could be to Iladia.

Shepard was certain that she was in love with him, and had been for years. The worst part was now that she could admit it, there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She wondered if Admiral Hackett would even dirty his hands with her now, or if she would spend her time in jail growing more bitter as time passed.

One seemed just as likely as the other. It wasn't hard to grow bitter when left alone to think too much, moments overanalyzed, the ticking of time too slow to soothe, too quick to comfort. Her days were filled with nothing, encounters with other people over too fast as time stretched on in front of her with no real end in sight. She tried to hold her feelings away from where she could let them turn into poison in her mind, but there were times when she couldn't help but be angry about her situation. There was nothing else to be done, but work through it.

And there were times when there was no anger at all, just wanting and memories. He was always there in her career, official and handsome in his uniform. Hackett had fought his own battles, won her respect and captured her imagination. She thought about him, and how lofty he'd seemed for so long until he wasn't anymore, but was there. Hackett proclaiming his faith in her after that awful mission, the way he'd looked at her. He was sure, unshakable in his assessment of her character.

Pitying herself never lasted long, so it was always the good thoughts and memories of Hackett that won out. Shepard was glad for that, because she didn't want however long she had to spend in prison to be time wasted in anger, with resentment.

"Shepard. Your evening meal is approaching." The VI that was her constant companion and sometimes her only source of interaction chimed out the standard warning that someone was coming. It was intended to wake Shepard if she was sleeping, without necessitating interaction with the soldiers. She did get to talk to them from time to time, but mostly it was her, the doctors and the VI. The lifeless tone of the voice made her miss EDI.

"Thank you." Shepard muttered in response, without looking up at it. She hoped that it was at least something good tonight.

#####

"My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues." - Khalil Gibran

Steven Hackett woke up from a dream that was all too familiar, curly dark brown hair that brushed past a pair of creamy fawn colored shoulders, deep eyes so dark that the pupil and the iris were nearly the same shade and far too old for the face they inhabited. He'd dreamed of Shepard quite a few times since they'd slept together after her failed mission to save Amanda Kenson. 

Those memories were precious, and Hackett let himself muse on his recollection of her. He knew the curves of her body intimately, yet felt unfamiliar with them, even after their encounter. She had a dusting of moles in places he wouldn't have guessed, but he couldn't remember every inch properly, like he wanted. Everything about her physically was varied shades of brown, but her personality would have been colorized with a cool, intense blue, save for a lilting laugh that he hadn't heard enough of recently. The sound faded as he tried to coax it to the forefront of his mind, and instead of frustrating himself in that task, he tried to forget the dream altogether. It was a futile hope at best.

The room around him was still, the sound of his breath slowing towards normal the only thing out of the ordinary. The sheets were tangled with his ankles and as he sat up, his dog tags made a soft thump against his bare chest. He padded across to the small bar in the corner of his quarters. It wasn't a proper bar, there was no mirrored surface or shakers or any of the other accouterments that might accompany good drinks. It was a small stash in truth, out of the way and kept quiet, something to sip on with other admirals or esteemed guests.

Hackett nearly snorted at that thought. Esteemed guests indeed.

It was always dark in his room, but in truth, he didn't mind it these days. When he first got into space, he used to miss the sunrises from back on Earth and the neat artificial sun of Jump Zero. All these years later, and he preferred the dark. The cool rim of his cup touched his lips before he realized he'd even poured the drink, and he had just enough presence of mind to taste the deep complexities of the liquor, the burnished candied notes that heated like fire as they whisked down his throat. In other times he might have been excused for not relishing the taste, but he couldn't help but chide himself now. There was precious little of his home left, and he had to be cautious with it all.

Light danced on his desk, datapads winking and demanding at the same time, beckoning Hackett back to his never ending work. He ignored it and closed his eyes to enjoy the flare of molten heat in his chest, calming him in a way that was almost unseemly had he cared to think on it. All he did was think or try to avoid thinking.

The bitterness that he'd suppressed earlier came out, his chuckle rough with fatigue. No one slept well these days.

He should get up, check the shift reports, get in the shower and get on with his day. There would be food and people in the mess, people bustling about on their one and only task. Hackett didn't hesitate as he slipped back into bed, pulling the sheet up to his shoulders. The VI would wake him later. He couldn't go out there looking like the war was wearing on him, no matter his private thoughts or insecurities. Another hour or so of shuteye and he'd be back to it. He'd be the leader of what was left of the Alliance and Iladia Shepard would be the Great Commander Shepard, First Human Spectre and not simply the woman he missed so much he couldn't sleep.

The last time he'd seen Shepard in person, she was under voluntary house arrest with the Alliance, to borrow their official statement. It wasn't just that she was in prison that bothered him, but that he had been the reason. Admiral Hackett winced every time he recalled the mission to save Doctor Kenson, and how disastrous it had turned out. Back on the Normandy, he'd told her that he didn't need to read her report to know she'd made the best call she could under the circumstances. But Hackett did read it, and reread it once he'd finally left her ship.

She'd been captured and sedated, kept against her will until waking up at the very last minute to avert disaster, buying time with the deaths of more than three hundred thousand batarians. Any other soldier and there would be no way that she wouldn't be in intense psychiatric care. But this was Shepard, who somehow kept surviving, even when she didn't, and no one was thinking about her as a person instead of a soldier. 

Maybe he shouldn't have thought of her that way, but after years of growing closer and pulling back, then finally acting on their attraction, he wasn't prepared to see Shepard as only a soldier anymore. Amanda Kenson had been his friend, and this had been a favor he'd asked of Shepard that caused this mess. He was central to these tragedies, yet he wasn't the one paying the price.

Sure, he had paperwork and angry batarians and datafiles from Kenson's lab. There were field reports in dead drops on Omega that they'd found, but little to corroborate Shepard's story. It was his job to prove she wasn't lying, and he was failing, failing in that too. Classified had become shifting the blame to the most visible person, and that was Shepard.

She didn't deserve any of this, and he'd brought it down on her.

Her curly dark brown hair was pulled away from her face, but tiny tendrils had slipped the knot. Part of him wanted to visit right away, but he knew that it would be suspect if he did. There was distance to be maintained, lies of omission to be told with silence, and blame to be cast around. In the eyes of the Alliance, Shepard had done so much wrong by coming back to life through the technology of Cerberus, though he and Dr. T'Soni were part of that too.

Perhaps he hadn't realized just how much he meddled in her life before that day. But Hackett's blue eyes watched her from surveillance cameras before he ever went to see her. Watched her as she sat reading and looking out of her window, wondering if she would even consent to see him.

Turns out she must have wanted to talk to him as much as he wanted to see her, because Shepard agreed to go to a tiny interrogation room with guards outside an unlocked door. At least they closed it behind them.

"Admiral." She said in greeting, nodding at him as she came in. She technically wasn't Alliance anymore, so there was no stand and salute for him.

Behind her words, he could detect nothing of malice, no harshness of any kind. There was a sort of detachment, but Hackett suspected the same could be heard in his voice as he replied, "Shepard. You look well."

"Thank you, sir." She answered automatically, not even taking the time to think about his comment. He probably deserved her disinterest, or at least some coolness from her, but in the next moment Shepard smiled at him as much of a true smile as she could muster under the circumstances and Hackett relaxed. The smile was weak, but he realized that she probably wasn't at her best and a little wary of him.

"Is there any particular reason you wanted to see me, Admiral?" Shepard asked, tilting her head to one side as she did. She was still trying to read him, since he hadn't returned her smile.

"I should say upfront that I have a duty to report anything relevant I might learn in here, since there are no cameras." He said.

"That's handy to know. So if I say something irrelevant..."

"Like how glad I am to see you." He supplied, mouth twitching with a small grin.

"Then I take that it will stay between us?" She asked, her eyebrows raised. This time her smile was a little wider, the dullness of her eyes diminished by his candid words.

"Just between us." He confirmed, taking her hand in his across the table. There wasn't time enough for more than the briefest of contact, certainly not enough for him to seduce her. Though he wanted to, almost craved her touch but didn't dare risk it. Despite the lack of cameras, there were simply too many eyes about. Touching hands could be considered comfort, friendly, strengthening. But the kiss he wanted, the sight of her bare skin against his - that certainly wouldn't be tolerated.

"I'm glad to see you too." Shepard said, sighing. "I know why I'm here, just not what they want from me. I can't help but think there's more than Aratoht behind this, like I'm the frog in a dissection."

Hackett made a noise that was something like a grunt, but Shepard held up her hand and continued. "Please. I know how much the Alliance would like to know about me and Cerberus. But can we stop at taking me apart again? I woke up on an operating table once and had to fight for my life. I don't want to repeat that."

"No one's going to hurt you, I promise." He said, squeezing the hand still linked with his. She gave him a pitying look, but said nothing.

He had her write 'reports' on her status. It was a way to keep in touch and communicate throughout her stay with the Alliance. They were going to be read and censored, should the need arise for it, so they would simply be reports, but Shepard felt better knowing that he would at least know how she was.

It was better than the nothing she'd had before, that was certain.

"Admiral Hackett -  
Daily report from I. Shepard.

Medical check with psychologist and routine trauma counseling. Spent several hours in solitude, confined to quarters reading a book. Afterward, physical activity under guard in secure location. Dinner had peas with it."

They were mostly straightforward, and she had no way of warning him if something was happening to her, but writing them made her feel like she had something to do, to look forward to. She liked the contact, as one-sided as it was. It was the best they could manage under the circumstances. At least it was something.

When Hackett read her report that night, he was interrupted by alarms. Deep space stations were starting to go silent, and he knew instinctively that this was what she'd been fighting against. He had to get to her, to get her out ASAP, because only she knew how to fight this enemy, and he wouldn't have her die in a prison on Earth. Hackett called the one person he knew would believe him - Admiral Anderson.


	2. Savior Status

[ ](http://alex-spooks-aeryn.tumblr.com/post/68144094920#permalink)

 

As they hurried away from Earth on the Normandy, she was comforted by the call from Hackett. He hadn't been to see her but once, and then it was mostly business between them, save for the brush of his hand against hers. She craved his touch, but just seeing him would suffice for the moment.

When Kaidan was injured on Mars, it felt like a bad omen, the first in a line of setbacks. Perhaps not the first, since was leaving her home in the grips of a war that it was impossible to win, but the first for her tiny crew. There were so few of them, any loss would be felt, and Kaidan had the respect and admiration of the Alliance crew. Though not many of them knew him except by name, there were hushed conversations in the mess where Shepard heard the words "Major Alenko" mixed in. She tried to ignore them as she ran up to the communications room.

None of them were very confident in her, but then again, they were leaving the fight to depend on a formerly incarcerated soldier's diplomatic skills. Shepard was having a hard time keeping up - yesterday at this time she'd been eating banana flavored pudding with a plastic spoon after her dinner selection of meatloaf. Today, she was back to commanding, performing the delicate dance that demanded everything of her to keep it all in line. She was a little out of practice.

"Steven, Major Alenko was critically injured." Iladia was distracted, but noticed the misstep as soon as it was out of her mouth. She froze, wondering if he would rebuke her for her informality.

The Admiral's eyes narrowed for a moment, and he looked at her image as if he were springing an inspection on her. She expected his displeasure, this was why they had regulations, even if was an accidental slip due to distress. Instead, the set of his shoulders relaxed some and he gave her a tight smile, that looked tired, even over the QEC.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but you know things are going to get worse from here on out, Iladia." He looked at her and continued in a lowered voice, "I'm glad you're alright."

She smiled back at him. "Thank you, Admiral." She put the conversation back on track just in time, Liara entered the room to explain about the Prothean device. Hackett snapped back into professional mode, peering at the plans with a detached air of interest. She knew how he felt, these plans were almost too much to hope for.

There had been terrible loses, the entire Second Fleet was gone, Anderson still on Earth, Kaidan barely hanging on, and she didn't know where her mother was. But Ladi had a mission, purpose and was determined to do as much as she could to help. Things would get worse, she was certain of that grim fact, but she was on the Normandy, and it was her duty to try.

They were halfway to the Citadel when the messages started coming through. Comm relays were down in the Sol system, and Shepard had several months of backed up mail to sort through. It gave her something to do as she sat next to Kaidan.

"Iladia -  
Welcome back.

Steven"

That was the best message of them all, in her opinion.

#####

The messages from Shepard started soon after she was en route to Palaven, or rather, the moon called Menae. Apparently she was going to save the turian Primarch, but Hackett wasn't privy to why she was doing it yet. He supposed that information would come as soon as she secured the leader.

"Don't want to talk about work anymore, especially since you get those updates over the QEC. Wish I could send a kiss through mail. Why haven't they invented that yet?"

He replied: "I'd settle for a picture of you. Been too long since I last saw you."

She obliged. Her eyes were dark and tired, but her smile was true and her hair was loose and semi-wet, dark curls heavier than they would have been dry. Shepard looked gorgeous. Her message was "Now your turn."

After three attempts, he gave up trying to look anything but official. It had been a long time since he'd taken a photo for something other than the Alliance. He managed a smile and even took off his cap, and tried not to critique it too much as he sent it off. It made him have a rare bout of self-consciousness so he focused on Shepard's photo instead, loading it into a frame that activated at his touch. He fell asleep holding it.

He woke up to a report that Shepard had found a real, live Prothean and that her ship's AI had taken control of the Cerberus body that had shot Major Alenko. Somehow, he wasn't looking forward to this debrief as much as he had been when he went to sleep. Shepard always managed to keep him on his toes at least, personally and professionally.

#####

Once Traynor told Shepard about Grissom academy, she headed straight there. She had to remind herself of what Jack had told her, of the facility they'd blown up. Cerberus had a history of kidnapping children they thought would be useful and damn the consequences. Somehow she wasn't at all surprised to find Jack there defending the kids with Kahlee Sanders.

Kahlee was a bit of a surprise, because Shepard had found out in a roundabout way who she was. Her background was classified, but there were mentions of David Anderson in her file, and the admiral's voice always softened when he spoke of her. It didn't take much to put it all together, though knowing sort of made Iladia feel like an interloper. Still, if Anderson could be with Kahlee, maybe there was hope for her and Steven.

She was thinking about it as she fought through the troopers towards Orion Hall – and Jack with her biotic group. If Iladia had held onto any hope that a group of teenagers might make Jack a little more subtle or at least less prone to punching her in the face as a greeting, she soon found out she was hoping for too much. But for all her bravado and posturing, Jack was scared for her kids and glad for a rescue. Shepard was able to let the knock to the jaw slide until Jack spoke up.

"Finally got laid, eh Shepard?" She asked out of the corner of her mouth. "Can't save us all with that funky stick up your ass. Now to get someone for Garrus..."

Iladia laughed, partially to hide the warm blush that was spreading across her face. "It's not what you think. Not nearly that interesting." Shepard said.

"Oh yeah? Well get my kids out of here and you can bore me with all the details." Jack promised.

She wasn't sure what she was going to tell Jack, but she was damn sure that she wasn't going to name names instead of shooting Cerberus troopers. "I'll clear a path." Shepard said, promising nothing.

"Then you better fucking start." Jack retorted. It was good to see that despite the salty language and strange bolero and low rise pants combination, most of Jack's changes were for the better. The Jack on her ship wouldn't have been fussed about a bunch of kids, but now, they were her only real concern.


	3. Only In Dreams

Hackett didn't know if it was this difficult for Shepard, to keep up appearances. Whenever he took a shower, he wanted nothing more than to just let the water rush over him as he held onto the wall, and in private his enthusiasm lasted for as long as there was someone around. This had all happened so fast, everything - from him and Shepard to watching Arcturus become nothing but so much debris in space to fighting for the last chance for the galaxy. His personal life seemed small in comparison to the last two, but still it weighed just as heavily on him.

There were hints of it peeking out, he was sure. Telling Shepard candidly he'd presided over the most devastating defeat in human history was just the start. His whole life was catching up to him at the end, and Hackett felt worn down by it these days. He didn't want to retire - that wasn't the question at all. But each loss stung more, stayed with him for longer, these days. He went to see the medic to give him something to sleep, for without it, his tired body fell onto the bed, fruitlessly willing his mind to give in as the rest of him had. It didn't work for the most part.

When he did dream, at least half of them were of explosions - ships blasted by Reaper beams, flashes of light, or bombs in the streets from older battles. Turian eyes looked at him with cold calculation as he fought in the First Contact War, and begged for help as the red blast of a Reaper shot at them.

He dreamed of a house on Eden Prime. Hackett dreamed of a life that he'd never thought possible and wouldn't be if the Reapers won. He dreamed so deeply, he wondered if he would ever wake up. But he wasn't sure if he cared if he didn't.

The Crucible project hummed with life behind him, and his organizer beeped quietly, reminding him that supplies from Udina and the colonies were scheduled to arrive soon. Somehow he'd became both warden of the galaxy's last hope and the defacto leader of everything that didn't fall under Udina's jurisdiction. God help them all.

#####

Iladia had dreams of her own, but haunted ones of a child she couldn't save and voices of people from the past. Sometimes - and she told no one of this - she heard her father.  
Her dad had been Alliance through and through like her mom. They'd met and married while in service but brought her up to choose her own path. Her parents had been loving, understanding folk that wanted to explore, not fight. Her mother had taken the command path, while her father was a born engineer. Iladia had combined the two when she'd enlisted for service.

Many people assumed Hannah Shepard was the one Iladia took after, but save for a smattering of freckles and an ability to lead, the two had little in common. Iladia had been her father's girl all the way, and looked more like his side of the family than her mother's mostly Irish stock. They'd had the same curly hair and dark skin, favoring the Mexican heritage of his mother, for whom she was named. Every time Vega spoke in Spanish, it reminded her of the grandmother she'd called "Big Ladi" who'd taken her in when both of her parents were gone on different assignments.

When she woke from dreams where she could hear the voice of her father, she wished she knew where her mother was. Six months on Earth and she'd only gotten one delayed message, and nothing since the Reapers attacked. Her mother's ship had been out in space when the attack came and there was a good chance she was still out there fighting.

She closed her eyes and spoke aloud, "You'd tell me if she was gone too, wouldn't you, Dad?"

No answer came to her. She wanted to take it on faith that somehow she'd know the minute she became an orphan..

#####

There was so much to be done. There were resources to be gathered, people to talk to, treaties to be brokered. The Krogans didn't want to trust the Turians, and the Salarians were making everyone mad. The Primarch often pulled Garrus aside, asking questions or just making observations. Adrien Victus wasn't used to the burden placed on him yet, but he was holding up extremely well - sometimes Garrus thought Victus did better than he did, but then again, Victus was new to this fight. Shepard and by extension Garrus and all the rest of their friends had been fighting this battle for years, even if the rest of the galaxy was just now acknowledging it.

Garrus worried about everything these days, his own sleep stolen by a mixture of pointless worry and fear that he didn't recognize for what it was when it first clawed its way into his mind. Once there, it couldn't be loosed from its hold and Garrus suffered its presence, knowing that it would only grow as time passed. But then again, the whole crew was jumpy these days, even their boss. Shepard grew more restless as the days went on, her sleep schedule a tattered and torn as she grabbed naps where she could. It was better that way, to keep her from thinking too much about all that was asked of her. The amount placed on her personally would have broken a lesser person.

Garrus noticed. He didn't say anything, not at first, because he understood. He'd been the same way on Menae, but Shepard wouldn't be able to keep going like this.

He also noticed that his best friend was hiding something from him. It wasn't a new thought, he'd felt the same way before that last mission in batarian space. But he could could tell this was different, not quite as weighty as her covert mission. Most turians don't know human emotions from a hole in the wall, but Garrus knew Shepard. Whatever she was holding close would be held in the strictest of confidence until she was ready to spill it. If she ever did. Maybe it was his intuition talking, but this had a personal bent to it, if he was right.

With Shepard, Garrus was nearly always right about these things. But he did what he always did when she was looking a little ragged around the edges. It would help him too - because he so sorely needed someone to be there for him right now, in the middle of all the chaos. It felt selfish to look for an anchor, to try to make it Shepard, but she'd never begrudge him her friendship.

He found her at her terminal in the CIC. Her brown curly hair was pulled smartly away from her face, and she looked almost relaxed as she rested her lean figure against the desk. In the blue light Garrus could see the faint dotting of freckles on her cheek as he casually walked up to her side.

"Garrus." She said, acknowledging him first then finishing up whatever message she was reading. She turned to him without smiling, waiting for him to talk.

"Hey Shepard, I got James to set us up a little bullseye in the cargo bay. That is, if you're feeling up to a little competition." He said, adding some smugness to his tone to challenge her.

"Is that so?" Shepard looked interested, but then away as if she had something else to do. "In an hour?" She asked.

"I can do that." Garrus agreed. He'd get her talking, even if he had to blow the Primarch off for a while to do it.

She slept better that night than she had in ages, since before she'd gone to save Amanda Kenson. Her nightmares and mist-filled dreams gave her a short reprieve and the dead left her alone for the night. Shepard actually slept until her alarm went off, granting her nearly six straight hours of sleep.


	4. Near and Away Missions

The N7 missions were needed, but they were also reasons for him to contact her, to see and check in before sending her into another hotspot. They checked in together so often, he wondered if it could have been like this for them sooner, but he knew his sense of propriety wouldn't have let it happen. Iladia hadn't been Alliance for the brief moment when they'd gotten together, and he didn't consider himself breaking any rules then. As for now, well he'd fought for his life while Arcturus was destroyed. Earth was more devastated with each passing moment. He couldn't imagine his personal life meant much in the face of those catastrophes.

But it did, in a way. It was the only thing keeping his morale up at times. If something happened to Shepard - Hackett wasn't quite sure what he'd do without her. Not just the war effort, but he couldn't imagine his own life without her presence, rare though their meetings were.

Hackett got a report that jogged something in his memory. The file in front of him was from the Chief Medical Officer on the Crucible Project, who did routine checks on the health of all the people working for the project. With so many different personalities pulled from a variety of sources, Hackett didn't take for granted that they were all stable, especially given with the galactic climate. Some minds were more fragile than others.

Shepard was one of the people he should have been checking on anyway, but it had slipped his mind. Regular contact with her notwithstanding, he would like to know that she was doing alright from another source. Shepard had been through a lot, so much that it would have broken others, and he was responsible for a great deal of it. He had a responsibility to check on her - and all of the Normandy crew. He hardly knew more than names of some of the Alliance members, though he did know Adams in engineering, and Doctor Chakwas from working with them. Her alien crew members he didn't know outside of Dr. T'Soni, but he trusted Shepard's ability to find the best of the best.

That night he wrote to Dr. Chakwas, just to check in on Shepard and the crew. Nothing to arouse suspicion or even inform Shepard about. Just a routine check on a soldier that was asked to shoulder the weight of the galaxy, to solve feuds that went back before the humans has spaceflight, to save them them all.

It wasn't an unreasonable request that the ships medic make sure she was sleeping from time to time.

#####

It was Doctor Chakwas who first noticed, and spoke up. Whether Liara or anyone else did, Shepard truly couldn't say, but Chakwas let her know that their affair wasn't much of a secret and hadn't been for a while, at least it hadn't been to the good doctor. When Iladia went into her office, she ambushed her.

"It came to my attention when I was working for Admiral Hackett doing R&D down in Shalta Wards that you were allowed to send him messages while you were imprisoned."

Iladia frowned. "Not so much allowed as required."

"He was your only correspondent then?" Iladia nodded and it seemed to confirm something for the doctor. Chakwas continued, undeterred, though Shepard was taking small steps back towards the door. "And that he answered them in a very familiar manner."

"Steven and I have known each other for years." Iladia said stupidly and then caught herself, the look of triumph on the doctor's face enough for Iladia to know that she suspected. "He and I often talk." She hurried on. "But I suppose he does with many of his reports."

"Oh, but not the way he talks to you." Chakwas said with a cackle. “And he's just sent a message, asking me to check in with you. Make sure that you're handling the stress well. You do look a little peaky at the moment.” Chakwas teased.

Iladia's mind raced – how could she possibly know? But then it was part of a doctor's job to suss out the secrets and get people to talk about things so she could treat them. While the doctor was crisp and official the moment it was called for, she was also funny, flirtacious and vibrant underneath that exterior. She would have seen through Hackett's professional concern, even in an email.

"Really, Shepard, did you think I didn't notice?" Chakwas said after the silence extended on a beat too long and Shepard was wishing she was anywhere but beneath the piercing gaze of an astute doctor.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Iladia said haughtily, trying to gain the upper hand and failing. She couldn't pull off haughty on her best day, let alone in front of Chakwas. 

"Your secret is safe with me. I'm a doctor, the very soul of discretion. But, Admiral Hackett?" Chakwas raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a mock salute. "You don't set the bar low, do you, Commander? I supposed if you didn't, I wouldn't be here to tease you about him."

With that Iladia gave in and laughed, her shoulders loosening as she did, Chakwas joining in with her. She thought about it later and realized that Liara probably had an inkling as well, but hadn't said anything. At least the two of them could be discreet about it. There was no sense in the whole galaxy knowing about her and Hackett. It would make both or either of them a target, and neither one needed more attention.


	5. To Each An Albatross

Doctor Mordin Solus. Names were funny that way, giving no indication of the real person behind them. Doctor as an earned title sometimes only signifies the work done to earn it for some, and for others it became such a part of their persona that it was hard to remember them ever not being one. So it was with Mordin, one the kindest and most understanding souls she'd ever met. Iladia was so awash in grief after his death that it felt as raw as Ashley's death.

It was the same kind of numbing, crippling pain that made her open her mouth to cry and find that no sound, no tears, nothing could come out and the pain went on, endlessly trapped inside her soul. Somehow the deaths in this war hurt worse. Maybe it was because she wasn't sure she could make them count. In the end, it came down to her - even Steven knew it, even if he never said it in so many words. She could see the look in his eyes whenever they spoke. There was hunger but also resignation, like a man he knew no matter what he did, he was going to starve. 

She didn't want to see that look in his eyes anymore, but she wasn't going to be a sacrifice either. Deep inside, she wasn't sure that choice was hers to make anymore, and that scared her more than all of the Reaper forces combined.

Even after showering, she could still smell Tuchanka on her, still taste the grit in her mouth and feel ash falling onto her face. When she went down to the crew quarters to check on everyone, she could have sworn she heard someone humming Gilbert and Sullivan. The sound, whether it was real or not she didn't know, but it hurt like the dull thump of a concussive shot. The crew was subdued by the loss, but a little less edgy with the Primarch and Wrex off of the ship.

When she closed her eyes, she thought of seashells and trips that would never get to be taken. Her heart hurt as she wandered aimlessly about the ship, eventually winding up in the War Room. Even as she looked over the achievements, people she'd help, items she'd rounded up – none of it eased her pain. All that work was reduced to numbers, nonsensical to a mind that wanted nothing more than to feel at that moment. Her feet led her to the connection to Hackett, ever present in the closed off little communications nook and she pressed connect before she could stop herself. His assistant greeted her with a warm but weary welcome and then left her with a salute as he went to find Admiral Hackett.

"I desperately need cheering up." Ladi said once she had Hackett on QEC. 

"What can I do for you, Shepard?" He asked. It took him everything he had, but he gave her a smile when he said it, and was rewarded with a shaky one in return.

"Tell me something good." She ordered.

He stopped and stared at her for a moment, thinking as he looked at her. The blue representation of her form and face didn't hide her fatigue, but neither did her tone. At last he spoke “The war effort goes well.” He said simply, waiting for her reaction. When she nodded, he went on. “The people here see you as a hero, tales of what you're doing out there keeps morale up. Anderson said the same for his troops on Earth. They're all looking to you.”

“So it's worth it, is that what you're saying?” She asked, the question only a little sarcastic.

“You know it is, sweetheart.” Hackett said, narrowing his eyes as his pitch grew more gravelly. “You don't need me to say it.” 

“Sweetheart?” Her eyebrow quirked as she asked the one word question.

“I could think of much better names if I were there. But then I could also think of much better ways to cheer you up.”

Iladia smiled truly now, and she felt the slow spread of it across her face as she stepped closer to the QEC interface. “It would be nice to see you in color.” She laughed. “But any visit I might make to the Project will have to wait, since Councilor Valern wants to see me at the Citadel.”

“Let's hope he's extending the olive branch, Commander. More Salarian support would be useful, though Major Kirrahe and the STG have been a great asset so far.” Hackett mused.

“I love it when you talk dirty.” Shepard said. Hackett gave a low laugh and for the first time in a long while she felt something more than exhaustion and frustration – desire flowed over her, warming her skin like the sun on a summers day.

She had the feeling that he was about to say something in return, but a chime sounded and he looked over his shoulder. “Another time, Commander.” Hackett said. “I promise. Hackett out.”

Iladia was certain she was going to hold him to that promise, one of these nights.

#####

"Councilor Udina is dead. Kaidan Alenko shot him after he pulled a gun on Councilor Tevos." Shepard informed him.

"Jesus. This keeps getting worse." Hackett muttered, more to himself than to Iladia. “Tell me exactly what happened. I'll read Alenko's report after.” He'd ordered. Unfortunately, Shepard did just that.

He'd never liked Udina. Not one bit, not for one minute, but that was always his way with politicians. Hackett was a soldier and a reluctant politician at best. Not that the military wasn't without its fair share of politics, but he never wanted to deal with the galactic level like Udina did. The man was at best, a necessary evil and the only possible replacement once Anderson stepped down. He'd tried to be respectful and at times he did appreciate the efforts and lengths the man went to - especially after Earth was attacked. That short time was probably the closet he'd come to actually liking Udina.

But now, Hackett just felt sorry for the man. He was dead, and people would remember him as a traitor, if they remembered him at all. Maybe he'd go unmourned as a footnote in history, if there was anyone left to write that story. He had no love for Cerberus or whatever the hell they were doing out there, but he understood how it felt to be pinned to a wall. Donnel Udina wasn't a soldier or a strategist by any stretch of the imagination, and had gotten desperate quick. Hackett could understand that, and why he'd reached out to Cerberus. No one else was talking about helping humans. Just because they weren't talking about it, didn't mean it wasn't happening behind the scenes. 

That was always the way of war, some broke and some bent, but no one ever came out the same again.

He didn't feel too bad for Udina though, because no matter how desperate he'd been, lives had been lost foolishly. The man had stirred a hornet's nest that he hadn't known existed and would never have been able to control. Sleeper agents in C-Sec, troopers executing refugees down in the docks, and an assassin attempting to kill Councilor Valern. It was lucky that Shepard's drell friend had been there to save the salarian's life. Shepard had appeared with tears in her eyes when she'd reported back on the Normandy – the drell she called Thane Krios had paid for his heroism with his life. She'd already added his name to the memorial wall in the Normandy.

The burning behind his eyes intensified when he closed them. The cost of this war was threatening to become more than he could bear. He'd started with good intentions, as they always did, but he was a soldier that had seen too much war. He wondered if the morning after on Earth would reveal to him a field of corpses that he'd ordered into fighting, and if that weight would finally kill him. Then again, if the war kept going like this, there wasn't likely to be a morning after on Earth. Perhaps he'd survive but there would be no Earth, no place left to turn. If he was the last man standing, how could he be redeemed?

Shepard believed in him, and in that moment it was enough. Hackett sighed, rubbing his face with his palms before getting up. Underneath his hands, his skin felt paper-thin and dry. Anderson had ID'd their mystery Cerberus assassin as Kai Leng, and briefed him on his prior encounter with the N7 washout. Shepard wouldn't like this information at all, because Leng was dangerous and completely devoid of ethics or a conscience. He was a complication that didn't bode well for them. Damn Cerberus – this war was already going poorly enough without their constant attempts at takeovers and subterfuge.

He had an announcement to make about the tragic death of Council Udina and the importance of security.

#####

When Shepard walked away from the QEC, Traynor informed her that Kaidan probably needed to talk. While Shepard was ecstatic that her old friend had joined her crew, she wasn't quite sure what to say to him in the wake of the Citadel. “You killed Udina – Good Job!”, while accurate, the sentiment didn't seem very appropriate.

Her friend was as earnest as always, but this time less hopeful than he'd been on the original Normandy. Turns out, he didn't need to talk about Udina at all – Kaidan was a soldier and apparently her reassurances in the docking bay had put his unease to rest. Instead what Kaidan wanted to talk about was his mom, or rather his parents. He'd heard from them since they'd talked at the hospital, but didn't know much other than his father had gone to join the fighting on Earth. His mother was alone, and Kaidan didn't know where she was exactly, not that she could stay in one place. 

Considering she didn't know where hers was either, she could understand that.

“How'd we end up here anyway?” He asked her.

“I don't know Kaidan, but it seems like it was inevitable.” Iladia replied. She'd wondered the same thing herself, particularly when she was on house arrest with the Alliance.

“Are you doing okay?” He asked, looking sideways at her. “You've seemed better.”

“It's...fine.” She said after a heavy pause. “It can't be any other way.”

She expected Kaidan to agree, he had the same duties as she did, Spectre and all that, but he shook his head. “Nah, I don't believe that. I think we can still do our jobs if we aren't fine, and you don't need to lie to me.”

Shepard rested her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes to block out the vista of stars in front of her. She wanted the dark, the security of silence, and the feeling of not being alone as she tried to think. Kaidan was reaching out, she understood that, but they weren't really the same. She had all these pieces that didn't fit now, secrets and shame, lies and pride. Part of her wanted to be the person he'd met back on the original Normandy, but there was never any use in wishing to go backwards in time, it never worked. 

The person who understood her most was Hackett, and while she might have slipped through his barriers as a momentary lapse, she was with him until the end. If he could let her become part of his life, maybe she could extend that to her friendship with Kaidan.

“You're right.” Shepard said, opening her eyes again. “But I've got you here, Garrus and Liara – you all know me. You keep me from falling too far.”

Kaidan gave her a warm but tired smile. “I always will try, Shepard. You deserve nothing less.”


	6. Walking Into Fire

There was nothing like her anywhere else, but Hackett guessed that was the point of it all. Shepard didn't make many visits to the Crucible project, and he saw her more often over the QEC than anything else. But when she could, she was there. Others thought they talked strategy while he peppered her skin with kisses. There was strategy of a sorts, the way that so many faced with death cling to what they hold dearest. 

Introspection was a foul beast that Hackett fell prey to more and more as his career grew longer. There wasn't room in his line of work for second-guessing, but he indulged himself in a wild game of what if, taking time after he'd responded to all of the messages in his inbox.

He'd an assistant for a long time, Lt. Oppenheim, who had been on Arcturus Station. Sadly, she'd been running errands for him when they were hit. The job of his day to day fell to her second, who knew him and was trained well, but he missed the woman that had become a friend, almost like a distant but cherished family member, a niece not often seen or younger cousin. Whatever he felt for her, though Hackett strongly resisted the word paternal - there was guilt and sadness where practicality might have once resisted. 

Hackett felt like a folded square of fabric, washed too many times until all the creases were set and the threadbare parts didn't show. That didn't mean that they weren't there. He could feel it in himself, pieces gone the way of the tide, never to be his again. 

It was the first time in a long time that he'd started to doubt himself, but then again, he'd never faced a foe that took so much when he had so little.

#####

She loved him, of that one thing, Shepard was sure. Her life was immensely improved by her relationship with Steven, even if it was a secret she kept to herself. There was no real reason for it, no one would begrudge her, but she thought they might look at Hackett differently. He had a position that needed to look a certain way, at least her mind, a standard to uphold that she didn't fit into. They hadn't discussed the secrecy since leaving Earth, but Iladia felt no need to change it now. It had been part of their relationship borne of necessity, she didn't want the Alliance to imply that their relationship was responsible for any of her actions, especially those on Aratoht. After being reinstated, there never seemed to be a good time to come clean with it, or even a real need. Her private life was the one thing that was her own, and Shepard wanted to be selfish with it - she'd never been in love before.

There were long messages sent by email, subtle clues whenever they checked in over the QEC, and less often due to safety and time, visits to the Crucible. They were hidden and kept moving, just in case of discovery, but he always found a way to let her know where they were. There would be a time at the end when they couldn't go anywhere, but while they could, they moved so the Reapers couldn't come shoot them down at the last minute.

Every time they were near, she had trouble stopping herself from touching him. Nothing in her wanted to hide this, but it really wasn't the time. Not for them, not yet. Maybe it would never be for them, and that was what he was afraid of before. But the things he said, the way he held her, banished those doubts from her mind. Shepard knew why she felt this way - not because it was new love, but because it was right. 

They passed nearby, pure coincidence - on her way back from the Ardat-Yakshi colony. Her heart clenched as she thought on it, mind always going to Morinth. Not Ria or Falere, but Morinth, the sister that had tried so hard to have freedom. That placed had scared her more than anything else, and she couldn't get Kaidan's anguished face out of her mind, as the elevator took them away from where another of Samara's daughters made a stand for freedom.

No one had much to say on the ship once they came back, even the Shadow Broker was silent. The Normandy docked with the Hackett's ship, dubbed by the crew (mostly Joker) as the Crucible Cruise Ship. Hackett gave her permission to board immediately, but when she got there, she wasn't the only one that needed to talk. They didn't have much privacy, but he was able to pull her into a conference room and have a word without others listening. The Crucible was bustling with action with no downtime, and Hackett's shift didn't end for hours. She considered herself lucky that he was giving her this small chance to be alone with him. They hugged once the door was secure behind them, Hackett sealing it with a short kiss. He seemed to need the intimacy of the hug more than anything else. As he always did though, he didn't waste time with smalltalk, just delved straight into his worries.

"What if I'm not the one that can deliver a victory?" He asked. As he talked, he moved a little away from her, shifting from their hug to sit on the table. Hackett took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting beyond regulation length again, and Shepard could see the bits of straight, grey hair sticking out in the back where the band of his cap sat, the too long pieces curling into his ears.

"Do you believe I'm the same person you put your faith in before, even after Cerberus rebuilt me? I could just be someone that looks like her." Shepard ventured. She had questioned herself a few times since coming back, less after her time on Earth. Introspection made her feel as if she knew herself better.

"But you're you, Shepard. I can tell." He frowned as he answered, eyes flicking over her.

She stared squarely back at him and spoke with hard confidence. "Then know this, I wouldn't follow you if I didn't trust that you'd do everything possibly to save us. And that I love you." She added the last part before she lost her nerve. 

They never said the words, all he ever told her was "I missed you." or "Come back to me safe." But the meaning was always there. In the beginning, it felt like too much, as if saying the words would be a jarring noise in a symphony. But their situation, the state of the known universe had changed. Shepard wanted to say it, free of desperation and prodding, to have it said before it was a final goodbye.

"That almost feels like more than I deserve." Hackett answered. He closed the gap between them, sliding an arm around Shepard's waist. "But Iladia Shepard, I love you more than I can say. It was very, very difficult to think you were dead and I never want to go through it again."

Shepard gave him a warm, true smile as she nestled further into his arm. "We might not have that option in our line of work. But it's good to hear you say it, Steven." 

"We have a war to fight, but it's good to have a little more incentive to do my job well." He hugged her to him and she could feel his heart beating. "Hopefully we'll still make it to Eden Prime after all is said and done."

"I'd be happy on a ship with you, or even back on Earth."

The war seemed at once all too long and taxing when she thought about the future, so Shepard switched. "But we're here now. Would you like dinner before I go?"

"That would be lovely. I eat alone too often, or spend my time with datapads. I won't turn down beautiful company on the few occasions I can have it."

They only had a scant couple of hours together, but none of them were to be had with much privacy outside their talk in the conference room. His on duty shift hadn't ended, and she couldn't stay until it did. So they settled for dinner together, a step they'd skipped in their strange courtship, but Hackett remembered why he enjoyed her company so much before they got involved together. Shepard, no, Iladia, was captivating and funny as they ate in the mess hall at a private table. They didn't hold hands, but her legs brushed against his as they sat close together and Shepard ate off of his plate without asking.

He told her about a doctor he wanted her to meet, a man that had been studying odd artifacts out of a lab on the Citadel. Not long after that night, she went down to face the Leviathan, and finally understood what fear was for a Reaper.


	7. Outside Eyes

Shepard went to Gellix, and found Jacob Taylor. Truth be told, she'd been more than a little worried about her friend, wondering if the steady and certain soldier had met more than his match as he defended against the Reapers. Jacob would always be a defender - it was who he was through and through and part of the reason that Ladi liked him so much as a person. Jacob Taylor's integrity reminded her of Kaidan, and his bravery made her think of Ashley. The Alliance had lost a lot when they lost him.

Helping those scientists and their families it was the only call she could make. Sending them to Hackett and giving them amnesty and some hope of evading the Illusive Man was more than just in her own interests - it would help save them all. Shepard gave Dr. Brynn Cole a warm smile before they parted, and hoped she and Jacob could keep the spark of happiness and family alive at the Crucible project. They needed all the reminders of joy and humanity they could get there.

#####

The scientists (and their families) took the asylum offered by the Alliance and went to work on what Jacob thought of as Shepard's project. The thing was a little over his head - but he could grasp the basics of it. It was surprising that the Illusive Man wanted to stop this, but Jacob had thought TIM wanted what was best for humanity for a long time. Seemed like now he wanted power at any cost, a direct and shameful perversion of the ideals that led him to Cerberus in the first place. But the past was already done and they had to fight for any sort of future at all. Jacob knew his place, he defended when necessary and coordinated and helped where he could. It was what he'd been doing for all the defecting scientists for months, he just had better backup now.

Jacob liked Admiral Hackett a great deal, even though he kept trying to reinstate him as an Alliance officer. That wore on him a little, but he stayed polite yet firm, if he didn't hold onto his ideals at now of all times, when could he?

So he kept his mouth shut when Hackett called Shepard "Iladia" a few times and once "Ladi" - a nickname he hadn't known she had. Jacob hadn't even known who Hackett was talking about at first until the admiral corrected himself. After that, Jacob kept watch, just in case something funny was going on. It didn't seem like it, but he heard Shepard one day as he came around a corner and thought she would be standing there. He'd waited, because the conversation seemed personal, she called him by his name, but the conversation went on too long and he didn't want to pry. When he made himself known, Jacob saw that it was only the admiral, listening to a message on his omni-tool. Something was definitely up, the sound of Shepard's voice was nothing like the crisp professionalism he was used to, and Hackett was her superior - she would never let protocol slip like that.

It took him a while, but it was when he was talking to Brynn that he put it all together.

"...and so Admiral Hackett said he'd mention it to Commander Shepard when he spoke to her that evening. I think they talk quite a bit considering her variable location. But that's good, we always know what's happening in the wider galaxy." Brynn was saying, finishing up a long-winded story about some new theories they had. He only caught that Hackett managed to talk to Shepard most nights, despite their workload and the distance.

"I think Admiral Hackett and Shepard might have something..." Jacob said, trailing off. It was harder to say it out loud than he thought, because it sounded ridiculous to his own ears.

"Do you think there's something going on?" She'd asked, picking up on his train of thought immediately, her dark eyes wide. 

"Could be, little things have caught my attention, but only because I've worked with both of them." He stretched his arms overhead and yawned. "Not my business, but damn if it doesn't seem like there is." Jacob answered. "Shepard's always been a little closed off when it comes to personal matters. Maybe it's because she couldn't say anything."

"Not without risking both of their careers. That's kind of romantic, if you think about it." Brynn thought for a moment then asked, "Was she in contact with him even when she was with Cerberus?"

"Think so. He definitely came to the ship after that last mission, so there's a good chance they'd talked before that. Probably the whole time she was awake, come to think of it. She was always an Alliance soldier first. It was almost like she was on loan to Cerberus."

Brynn's eyes lit up at that. "So maybe there is something to this. He checks in with her almost every day through email, because I heard him asking if it was even getting out after the solar flares nearby, since she hadn't answered."

"Love notes?" Just the thought made Jacob laugh a little. "Between Shepard and Hackett? I wonder if it includes new weapons specs."

Brynn laughed too, the husky chuckle he loved so much. Jacob pulled her closer to him and she rested her head on him. "This isn't enough evidence to be conclusive." She said, the researcher in her taking over. "But it does support the theory. There could be other explanations though. Her mother is Alliance right? He might know her family."

Jacob grimaced. "Didn't seem like it. She calls him Steven."

"Is that his first name?" Brynn asked incredulously as if she couldn't believe it was something so normal and mundane, and Jacob nodded. "Well." Brynn said, as if she'd made up her mind. "We might be right, but we can't say anything. If they want to tell people, they will. I doubt anyone would care about hierarchy in the middle of this war."

"I think people are always interested in whatever Shepard's involved in. Maybe there's something to keeping it quiet." Jacob said.

Brynn yawned widely. She was still sleeping a lot, but not as much as in the first few weeks of her pregnancy. "I think it must be stifling to be in love but not be able to be free with it."

Jacob inwardly agreed with her, though he could see both sides of the situation. Admiral Hackett was in love with Commander Shepard - talk about your odd pairs. In so many ways he didn't think they fit, but in a very strange way, they did. It was a little scary to think of all the power they had between them, over all of humanity and the galaxy. Hackett oversaw the project that might possibly save them in the end, and Shepard was the one that would get them to an end fight. The amount of responsibility placed on the two of them was staggering, and he could see how they might seek solace in each other.

No one knew but him and Brynn. She giggled about it as Jacob massaged her swollen feet, and talked about naming their baby "Hackett Shepard Cole Taylor". The giggle made him think she wasn't serious, but she'd suggested those names once before, though not all together like that. Jacob had to stop himself from blurting out what a monstrosity that name was. He loved Brynn, but he didn't think either Shepard nor Hackett would want a child saddled with that name in their honor. 

Truly, he knew it was none of his business, though it was an entertaining amusement to take their minds off the realities of their situation. Hackett and Shepard - if things were still normal, they'd be one hell of a power couple. But it was their story to tell, if they ever got to tell it. Jacob sincerely hoped they did.


	8. Another Man's War

[ ](http://alex-spooks-aeryn.tumblr.com/post/68144094920#permalink)

"It did not feel like a homecoming."  
\- Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

Dealing with the flotilla and the quarians was always an adventure. She didn't mean it in the bad way, as if she were always expecting the worst, but really in the sense of the word. The quarians had a lifestyle that was completely alien to Shepard, and she was curious about them and their history and development. Tali had become a great friend and valued member of her crew. But dealing with the whole of her community was a rare and strange experience.

This ill-timed war to retake Rannoch was another matter entirely. The quarians were less than understanding of the state of the galaxy at large, but Shepard couldn't really blame them for that. For so long they'd been shunned by the rest of the galactic community. Calling on them now because they had resources – vessels and liveships – seemed questionable to Iladia. But she was savvy enough to know how to gain their trust again, as she had when she'd won Tali's trial.

Whatever she was expecting to find on Rannoch wasn't the unqualified disaster she got, but then again, fixing the impossible was supposedly her specialty. She just wished she weren't called upon to do it quite so often these days. Geth Heretics had convinced the other Geth to go along with them, according to Legion. This unexpected turn meant that they had to shoot down more mobile platforms, sentient software that truly thought they were doing the right thing for their people. Once again, her good intentions blew up in her face.

Nothing from either the quarian or the geth side prepared her for what she found. After entering the geth consensus, saving an admiral and learning more about the geth than any other human alive – she thought she had it covered. But there was a fucking Reaper buried there, one who had either been put their recently (very possible considering their connection with the geth) or had been buried there after she'd defeated the Collectors. Either way, it wasn't anything good.

She made her report to Hackett officially and got the unofficial call over the QEC not too long after.

“There was a Reaper buried on Rannoch.” Hackett said it, but the scenario sounded as absurd out loud as it had in her report.

“Yep.” Shepard confirmed.

“And you fought it on foot.”

“Yep.”

“Carry on, Shepard.” Hackett said, not missing a beat.

For the first time, Shepard smiled. “Aye aye, sir.”

#####

Thessia brought both her and Hackett to a new low. Neither one would admit it, not when there were other people around, not when ears could hear, not when it was Liara's homeworld. It seemed almost selfish to encroach on her grief, but Shepard couldn't help but think of how much was lost. Too much was gone in this damn war, and if she couldn't say it aloud she damn well could say it to Hackett.

Kai Leng on the other hand – he had his coming to him. Iladia focused on the absolute hatred she had for him to stop the pity party she was throwing for herself. This was the second time he'd inexplicably gotten away from her, and Shepard promised herself that their third confrontation would be their last. That stunt with the gunship, hiding while he regenerated his shields and then running for it was complete bullshit. Normally Shepard took no pleasure in acts of war, but she was going to rip his augmented legs off at the first chance she got.

Javik was particularly upset by the encounter as well. He'd been so close to revealing a great deal to Liara, to helping her see and understand how history had made the Protheans and asari intersect, even if she was angry at the implications. But Kai Leng shot down the temple, robbing them of their chance at understanding and cutting them off from helping the asari commandos fight. Rage burned inside Iladia as she thought of it, rage fueled by helpless frustration. She was going to kill Kai Leng, so help her, before she even got back to Earth she would gut that bastard.

Liara promised she didn't read her emails, and Shepard believed her. She wasn't Cerberus, and understood how deeply that association had wounded her trust. Shepard was free in her emails to Hackett, candid as she could be no place else.

"I feel as though I cannot save anything. I am wrung out like a rag and overrun with the volume of my failure. Hearing those asari commandos, their last words, their pleas for help when I was there and could do nothing - that felt like the first burst of Reaper fire on Earth all over again. Steven, I cannot do this anymore, and yet I know I can't give up. There is only one way out, but I worry more and more that it will leave nothing left of me. It will just be the name Shepard and nothing else. Promise that if I die you'll remember Iladia, not just Commander Shepard.

I told Anderson that I'm just a soldier, but I doubt I'm even that anymore. Everything I shoot comes back to haunt me - the ghosts of my fallen comrades and my enemies. There is no peace in sleep, I can hear the whispers of all my failures, with every burst of my rifle I bring more whispers down on me. Was I brought back just to wage war? I hope not, for the sake of the dead.

I'm sorry I am so maudlin. Chastise me if you wish, I probably need to hear it. I am missing your arms so very much, because I'm in desperate need of a hug."

He got the message as Khalisah Al-Jilani wrapped up her report about Thessia on the vid screen in front of him. Shaky, spliced footage from a wrecked fighter was all the visual they had, and it played on a loop in the background. Hackett watched it was wary eyes, arms folded across his chest. That reporter always rubbed him the wrong way, even when she was spreading the right messages. But his dislike was replaced by thoughts of Iladia, and within moments the news reporter was nearly forgotten.

"I love you." He wrote back. "Remember that." It was all he could think of to cheer her up.

Shepard looked at the message when she got it, then closed it, only to open it again. She never thought that they'd get to this point with each other, where the words came easy and were almost like stating a fact and not making a declaration. Sometimes in her mind, she was still a young lieutenant with a hopeless crush on the impressive Hackett. To her, he was still someone to look up to, to admire. But he'd made it clear that he admired and cared for her as well, enough to take time out of his day to offer her the only words of comfort her could think of – the only ones that mattered.

#####

There weren't many days when Hackett had good news for Shepard. Most of the time it was simply assignments and more speculation, talk of the only thing that occupied their waking minds. But today he'd be able to tell her something truly good – he'd found her mother. Hannah Shepard had managed to keep her ship together and crew alive after fighting Reapers. They'd taken some damage as she quested from deep space back to his fleet, but had found some valuable resources for the Crucible Project. Of course, Captain Hannah hadn't known they would be reappropriated for the Crucible – or even what the project was out in deep space. She'd simply exercised enough forethought to realize that supply lines would have suffered in any attack.

“Admiral Hackett, you told me before my daughter was alright when I asked.” Hannah Shepard stated, walking with him as they toured the Crucible Project. He was getting her acquainted with it, and preparing her to take over a section – with an appropriate increase in rank.

“She is. This is mostly her doing.”

“Then I am very proud.” Hannah said. “But you didn't mention she was here recently. I have heard she stops by on an irregular but infrequent basis. Why is that?”

Hackett took a deep breath and then looked over at Hannah. She was a mother – not just a soldier in that moment and a damn perceptive one. He could tell her that the work was classified or give her some other excuse, but Hackett was in no mood for lies. He ushered her into a room – ironically the same conference room he'd kissed Iladia in the last time she visited.

Hackett pointed at a chair and she shook her head, declining the offer to sit down wordlessly. He took off his cap, nervous as a schoolboy with a crush. Hell, he'd never done this – his parents were deceased and his various partners had usually done it without him. “Hannah, I'm in love with your daughter.” He said, getting straight to the point. “Her visits, while important to morale and the efforts of the project, have also been to visit me. We are...together.” To say lovers felt more intimate that he wanted to reveal to Hannah.

At that, Hannah did sit down, blanching a little. “Well...that wasn't what I expected. I thought you were going to tell me what my kid was doing those two years she was MIA.”

“I'm sorry to tell you like this, but I didn't want you to think I was taking liberties. Iladia and I...it's been a long time coming.” He smiled, thinking to himself about how hard he'd tried to resist her, especially that night he saw her drinking away her troubles after Akuze. That had been a very long time ago, and they'd still wound up together.

“Do you love her?” Hannah asked. “I know you said that, but tell me the truth, Hackett. Are you in love with my daughter?”

“Absolutely. So much that it completely fucking scares me, if I'm honest, ma'am.” He added. Hannah was a few years older than him -- he couldn't remember if it was ten or twelve, but enough to feel formidable.

“Then treat her well, Hackett, or you'll have me to answer to.”

“Understood.” Hackett said, letting out a relieved breath. He stuck out his hand to offer her help getting up but she refused it.

“It's going to take me a while to get used to this situation.” Hannah stood and straightened out her uniform, pressing over it with her palms in slow, deliberate movements. When she'd composed herself suitably, she looked Hackett in the eye. “Let's finish up this briefing, Admiral. I have a message to write to my daughter.”

Hackett opened the door and they were off again, though the atmosphere between them was a tad chillier than it had been before. He hoped that she would grow used to the idea, or at least more accepting once she had a chance to speak with Iladia. But his heart was lighter after the talk, and there was an ease in knowing that he didn't have to deceive Hannah about anything.


	9. Unexpected Rain

"Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over."  
\- F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Liara was still recovering from the fight on Thessia, emotionally and physically. It'd been a long time since her biotics were put through the paces, and the fighting down there was harsh. The things she'd discovered were even harder to process. She needed some time to collect herself. Her mind was whirling most of the time, working frenziedly as the Shadow Broker and on bits and pieces for the Crucible. She contacted Admiral Hackett fairly often, though he wasn't her main contact for her remote deciphering for the project. 

Perhaps she'd been too distracted before, but she hardly noticed the familiar way in which Hackett and the Commander referred to each other. His last message had a post script that said "Cheer Shepard up for me. She deserves it, and I can't be there to do it myself." The wording caught her eye, and careful rereading of her older messages perked her interest. The problem however, was getting Shepard to open up about it.

She could have just read her mail, but there were boundaries that Liara set for herself as the Broker, lines that shouldn't be crossed. Were it the other way around, she probably wouldn't forgive the intrusion and disregard for privacy. So she didn't indulge her curiosity in that manner, but she did want to talk about it. Admiral Hackett was...impressive and sort of lovely in his own way. He certainly cared a great deal about his people, but wasn't short-sighted or overly sentimental. He had his way of helping her, but never seemed to interfere. Yet his influence was all around. Even the asari held him in high esteem – the only human she'd ever heard mentioned more favorably was Shepard.

Many people claimed Shepard as a good or close friend, but Liara was one of the few who'd actually earned the right to tease Shepard. Iladia Shepard wasn't the same as she was before Cerberus, but then again, neither was Liara. Still, they retained enough of that old energy between them, that quality that was nearly innocence, so that Liara could tease her friend.

"Kaidan and Garrus are getting married." Liara said, testing the waters. 

"That's nice...wait." Iladia said, looking up. "I thought Alenko had a thing for Cortez?"

"Does he?" Liara said, eyes widening. 

"That's the scuttlebutt. So you're trying to get my attention for some reason, yes?"

“If I missed that, I'm not doing my job properly.” Liara muttered, hands on her hips. “But yes, I thought you might like to talk.” 

Shepard shrugged. “Not really.” Liara must have been wearing her feeling of skepticism across her face, because Shepard relented. “Have you ever been in love, Liara?”

“No.” She said simply, not wanting to get into her own relationships.

“I have. Loads of times.” Shepard said, leaning against the wall near the door. “None of them mattered until now.”

“Why now?” Liara asked, and Shepard bit out a harsh laugh.

“I keep asking myself that same thing. I don't know why now, when everything is going to Hell at my footsteps, but it is now. I've been able to broker peace across the galaxy and I've come back from the very edge of death, but now I keep wondering what life would be like if I just gave in.” She sighed, but went on. “I keep thinking, how would this work? Because I'm not tired of the stars and black sea of space, but I could be convinced to enjoy the same view for a while. Or to gaze at it from the surface of a planet.”

“Find a lover on a station and take a job there?” Liara asked.

“Something like that.”

“And the Reapers are the only thing stopping you?” Liara didn't quite believe that.

“The Reapers are the only thing keeping me focused. I'm sitting around wondering what fantasy life in love would be like while we're all under attack.” Shepard stared hard at her now. “It isn't the Reapers that's the problem.”

“But love is.” Liara finished. “Shepard, I don't think you're being rational about this.” Shepard laughed again, but Liara pushed on. “Hear me out. Love is one of the few things that have gotten through to people during this war. They love each other, so they fight and work to protect. They love you as their hero, so they go out of the way to help when they can, even if they don't know you. You cared enough about me to tell me I was being dumb about not speaking to my dad, and it has been a good experience knowing her.”

They were both silent for a minute before Liara pressed on. “Are you going to tell me who all this lofty love talk is about, or am I going to be left in the dark?”

Shepard gave her a look of surprise, eyebrows raised as she answered. “I thought you'd already knew. I'm talking about my fish. Gotta find them a permanent home and settle down before they start to die off on me.” 

Liara calmly walked over to her bed and then throw a pillow at Shepard. With her biotics, of course, but not the full force. Shepard grinned sheepishly as she tossed it back. If her friend wasn't ready for a confessional, Liara hoped she'd at least lightened the load.

#####

She'd thought Thessia was the absolute last straw for her, but more and more kept coming. Miranda's father and the Illusive Man proved her wrong with that one. Horizon - Sanctuary, all of those people fleeing the Reapers only to become experiments, it made her sick.

Iladia broke up her report, in order to make it easier to write and process. Whenever she thought of Henry Lawson using Oriana as a human shield, her disgust with him was renewed. He was the worst kind of human being, one that didn't even have the brains to be something like the Illusive Man nor the ideals to do any good.

When they were leaving Horizon, a misty rain settled over the remnants of Sanctuary, washing away the blood they left behind. This planet, once so hopeful, had again become a sight of unspeakable atrocities. Some places couldn't be saved, but she hoped Horizon wasn't one of them. As the rain caught in her eyelashes, Shepard wished for a more peaceful Horizon in the future, where people might actually find sanctuary.

There had been so much death, so many people hurt when they needn't have been targets in the first place. So close to the end, Shepard felt like she had a deep well in her chest filled with the people she'd lost to the Reapers. From Ashley to Legion, she simply couldn't save them all – a lesson she kept learning over and over again.

Hackett read the report, disgusted. There had been a lot of war in his life – the batarians were particularly good at making humans feel like little more than slime, and they wouldn't be wrong if they were looking at Henry Lawson as an example. The man deserved a lifetime of pain, not the death that his daughter Miranda had granted him. Hackett could appreciate that Lawson wasn't his to execute and from what he knew of Miranda, she'd earned that right. But he couldn't say that to Shepard. Instead he wrote back sending her and her whole crew on shore leave.


	10. Clones and Pies

Shore leave felt like she needed a vacation after it. The Normandy was nearly finished, and she'd done more at the Citadel than she'd imagined - partied with her friends and defeated her own clone. Kaidan made her dinner and Vega made her actually exercise until she had vague twinges of soreness, while Tali cried through Fleet and Flotilla on her couch. Thane's memorial service was still fresh in her mind when the video monitor that alerted her to visitors sounded.

She almost wished Glyph was still hovering around her apartment to answer it for her, but Iladia got up off the couch and smoothed out her sweatshirt as she went to let him in. Part of her wanted to impress – she could have picked something more dressy to wear for him, but she didn't really have much else than the dress she wore to that black tie casino function to chase down her clone. Life on a ship was crowded, and the vast space in the apartment was new and foreign to her. Ladi wound up in the one bedroom she'd picked out as her own, marveling at quiet more often than not, but she had a feeling Steven would appreciate all the things that she was just getting used to.

“I brought you a gift.” Hackett said as he entered the apartment. For a second the white bakery box he had in his outstretched hand was forgotten as he craned his neck around to take in the apartment. When Shepard took the box from him, he gave a low whistle.

“Admiral Anderson certainly has good taste.” He commented. Shepard nodded, her attention mostly on the bakery box in her hands.

“May I?” She asked, and Hackett nodded at her.

“Mmm, pecan pie.” She said, taking in the warm, syrupy scent of the pie after she opened the lid. A delicate finger picked upon a single warm shard of pecan and she popped it into her mouth.. “And it's still warm. Where did you manage to get this?”

“Right here on the Citadel. Of course, the pecans weren't fresh when they made it, more the freeze dried variety. But the hopefully the pie didn't suffer for it.”

“We can see after dinner.” Shepard declared. "Unless you had plans to take me out on a date?" She asked.

"If you want, though I don't know what there is to do on the Citadel. A little of everything I suppose."

"Only perusing bakeries or has it been too long since your last shore leave?" Shepard quipped, but he was somber when he answered.

"So long I don't remember it. I think the last one was actually canceled, so it would have to be the one before that. Admirals don't get leave as often as we'd like." He frowned, but met her gaze with a smile. "So what will it be, Ladi? You up for dancing and dinner, or taking in a vid?"

Iladia thought on it. While it would be nice to actually go out with Hackett, to be like normal couples and go for those kinds of dates, she didn't think it fit them. He pretended like there was no rush for him, but she knew it was for her sake. There was never enough time and she didn't want to waste what they had in a casino or theatre.

He followed her through the apartment as she went to set the pie on the counter in the kitchen. She could feel him behind her, not right on her tail but less than an arm's width away. He didn't comment further on the place, but she could practically hear him taking it in as he went deeper into the apartment. When she stopped moving, his attention snapped back to her and she realized she hadn't given him an answer.

"Sex in all the rooms, dinner delivery and then a little time in the hot tub." She said firmly.

Hackett gave a dry chuckle. "No dancing?"

"Only if it's horizontal."

"Finally a policy that makes sense." Hackett murmured against her mouth as he leaned him for a kiss. "Though sex in all the bedrooms would be more realistic than sex in every single room. And then probably just two of the bedrooms, so pick your favorites."

Shepard got up and stretched, watching Hackett's eyes follow the movement of her limbs. He wasn't as obvious as a younger man, but she saw interest flicker to life in those cool blue eyes. He didn't betray himself with a smile, but waited for her to talk, as if he had all the time in the world. She started walking towards the stairs, inclining her head slightly towards them when she looked over her shoulder to see him still standing near the kitchen.

When she started up the stairs, she felt his footsteps behind hers, and smiled over her shoulder. The fraction of second where she was distracted turning back around, he closed the distance between them. They were nearly at the bedroom but the press of his chest against her back made her stop on the landing, close to the wall. Hackett pinned her up against it and captured her mouth in a demanding kiss.

It wasn't rough or lacking in finesse, but just demanding, lips hard but not cruel, his tongue touching hers within moments of initiating the kiss. It was determined – but there was room for softness. Iladia leaned into Steven, letting her arms loop around his neck, her hands brushing at the edges of his hair. The cap hit the floor soon after she started letting her hands roam freely, the first casualty of their carnality.

Hackett pulled away at her clothes after that, but not urgently. His hands found ways to distract her while disrobing her. They kissed their way to the bed, and save her boots, nearly all of her clothes were undone, begging to be shrugged out of and left on the floor. Iladia did just that. On a whim, she unbound her hair until it hung in a long, heavy curtain of dark curls that ended at the center of her back. Steven gave her swift look, and a glance that intensified the pace of his hands as he exited his clothes.

Hackett stripped when she did, but since she hadn't bothered to unbutton his uniform, preferring to simply shove her hands underneath it and into his waistband, he was considerably more clothed than she. By the time she'd settled naked onto the bed, he was mostly done. She admired the well-formed lines of his body, the impressive width of his shoulders, the muscled sinew of his back. He may be twenty years her senior, but his body didn't show signs of anything other than great strength and care. He cut an enviable figure at any age, and it was hers to delight in.

“You're staring.” He said, and she snapped her head up to meet his eyes. 

“I have quite the view from here.” Shepard said slowly, drawing out the words as she looked Hackett up and down again. “But it is a little lonely.”

She expected he'd come to her, but Steven seated himself on the edge of the bed and motioned for her to come to him. She opted to walk around the bed instead of simply rolling towards him, taking the chance to set the light to half strength. The dimness changed the feeling of the room. She was suddenly more aware of her breathing and movement towards him, of his arms wrapping around her and pulling her to sit on his lap, facing him. Every touch was amplified in the dusky light, she could feel the rise and fall his chest as she straddled his lap, of his hand stroking the length of her spine, up then down again. His eyes however, shone clear blue, as they'd intensified as it grew darker.

“Let's go slow.” He muttered to her.

“Slow?”

“We're not in a rush, for once. Let me appreciate you. I've been known to have infinite patience.” He teased.

Iladia laughed, the sound soft, more heat than husky chuckle against his ear. “I hadn't heard that. Demanding, yes that I could believe. Restraint – plenty of it. Discipline by the barrel. But patience is...not a virtue I'd associate with you.”

He frowned, thinking on that. “Patience for beautiful, smart women is the caveat. I could have infinite patience when it comes to pleasuring a gorgeous, brave woman that I'm in love with. And you fit the bill today.”

She smiled into his mouth, tipping his face up into a kiss. It was a soft thing, a brush of lips and nothing more. “Just today?” She asked in a smoky whisper.

“Forever.”

And then they were lost together, when she pushed him shoulder first onto the bed. He was patient in his explorations, kisses that started at the top, lips and neck and jawline, then wound their way down collarbone and shoulders towards breasts. He paid a lot of attention to those breasts, listening to her gasp as he sucked just so, as fingers brushed across her sensitized skin in delicate patterns and made her whimper, until she was so thoroughly mindless she thought she might just come from all that attention, her nipples taut and wet, so used to the warmth of his mouth that the air around her felt cold and made her shiver.

Steven hadn't even touched her yet, not truly. She was aware of the wetness between her legs, the throb of wanting the increased with every breath, all the anticipation nearly sending her into delirium. But he was slow and steady – patient – she realized dimly in her lust dimmed mind. When he finally began his descent again, kissing her stomach and tracing the curve of her hips with his tongue, Iladia thought that she might melt. 

It could have been hours or days he spent there, moving from breasts to her hips and further down. Each place was accorded its due in attention, skin tickled by his mustache, treated to his kiss. When he at last settled between her legs, he gave the soft skin of her thighs their due as well, albeit briefly, before letting his tongue make a long, lazy strip up her slit. Iladia moaned at the contact, her head falling back into the mattress, hands clutching at the sheets around her. This was worth the wait.

He teased her now, testing his speed and application of pressure against her clit, sucking and licking until he got the combination of moans and sighs he wanted to hear. Or at least, that's what she thought he was doing. Methodology didn't matter to her, but she let him go on until she broke under the light touch of his fingers and tongue. Iladia arched off the bed, unable to hold herself back from the intense climax he'd built within her. When it subsided, his was back down there again, unrelenting, his nose pressing at her overheated flesh, his tongue slick with her as he began the tease again.

After a second climax, he slid into her, bringing them together at last. She kissed his lips for the first time in what felt like forever, since he'd began his exploration. Hackett put his forehead to hers, and grinned against her mouth.

“Patience?” She asked.

“Older men do offer some benefits in that area.” He remarked, and gave her another kiss, this one just so slow and languid as the ones he'd pressed to her body. His tongue didn't tease so much as caress, a tender, gentle sweep.

It was a slow meander to the finish, a nice change from their usual quick interludes. They changed position once, rolling out of missionary so that she sat on top. He kissed her, lips and breasts, but mostly watched her from below as they kept the same steady rhythm together. When he sped up after a while, marking the end, Shepard kept pace. She went faster until she felt him unravel, and the deep cry that started out as a shout ended in a hiss of her name. He hooked a hand around her neck and drew her close, even before he caught his breath. They shared a few breathless kisses and she rolled off him, to the more comfortable spot on his side and then fell quickly into a relaxed doze. She felt his arm wrap around her and snuggled her face into his chest.

They didn't sleep for long. He woke up first, but settled back into the quick, light doze he'd used for the majority of his life. She moved and jostled herself, and then looked over at him with glassy eyes. It took her a second to focus, but when she did Iladia looked up at Hackett and spoke. “I have to tell you about the clone, otherwise I'll go crazy.”

He nodded, stroking her face with his knuckle as he looked down at her. When she didn't begin to talk after a lengthy silence, he tried another tactic. “Let's order food and you can talk.” Sometimes eye contact was too much, he understood that.

“I'd like that.” She agreed, and got up. Her first stop was to call for food, and her second was to unwrap the pie that couldn't wait until dessert. Well, perhaps it was just her that couldn't wait until dessert, but she hardly thought she needed to wait any longer. She'd just taken a course in patience and waiting, a mind-blowing thesis of persistently patient application of pleasure, but in hunger she didn't dare apply the same principles. It would definitely not have the same results.


	11. Another Time, Any Place

They were going to head to Earth sooner than later, and Shepard was ready. Something about this fight no longer had that one last quality about it, not after killing Kai Lang. She'd told him that they would fight again, and he believed her. He was more worried about whether they would both see that fight, that future. The life of a soldier afforded no room for promises of a next day, yet that's all he wanted from her. 

Hackett didn't dare ask her for a promise, though he wanted one. He wanted to promise her things too, things he had no right to voice, let alone say he could deliver. His thoughts could have been the wild ramblings of any man in love, if they weren't so broken and desperate. Still, Steven kept his composure for them all, even when the tension became as sharp as a knife's edge, pressed against their collective necks.

There was one last night for them, right before the final strike when he boarded her ship. It felt impossible that no one knew about the two of them, but save for Doctor Chakwas, no one mentioned it. He called it a strategy session to his own people, and not one of them even raised an eyebrow as he left them. Perhaps they felt like he did - whatever joy that could be found and celebrated was to be exploited, especially for Commander Shepard.

Every minute away from Earth had been a painful, terribly long trial to endure, but once the Crucible was assembled and Iladia ordered the assault on the Cerberus base, time sped by with a near obscene quickness. He boarded the Normandy, his first time walking on the ship since it had been impounded and Shepard turned herself over to the Alliance. It hadn't been that long in linear time, but it was lifetimes ago.

Shepard handed him a glass of single-malt scotch when he walked in. "I've saved this for you." She said softly. It wasn't the first bottle between them, though it was the first they'd shared.

They drank standing, not bothering with pretense that wouldn't matter. In a moment he'd have her clothes off and would be desperately clinging to her skin. This wasn't the time for the softness they'd enjoyed on the Citadel. All that was left was need and fear and he didn't try to pretend otherwise.

"Tell me, Commander, since it's you that has made miracles happen. Can you make time?" Hackett asked, his deep voice rumbling in her ear as he stood next to her.

Iladia knew what he was asking, and she pretended to think for a moment before she answered. "I might have a few more miracles, since you asked."

"I'm relieved to hear that." He smiled against her skin, kissing her neck quickly before pulling back.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want me to." Iladia admitted, her eyes downcast. "It's the end, whether we're ready or not."

He tipped her chin up and smiled at her, saying nothing as he swallowed her fear. They stood together quietly for a minute, locked in am embrace before she let him guide her with a hand on the small of her back towards the bed.

Last time between them, and the first time had been slow. This time he let the frenzy take him, the two of them locking together as they fell onto the unmade bed.

He knew it was likely the last time he'd see her, and it made him desperate, almost angry. Not with her, never with Iladia, but with the end, the idea of it all, that nothing mattered. The honor he'd clung to for so long, the protocols that had made him turn her away years before - they were all senseless, meaningless wisps of fury that were to be stamped out without leaving the slightest trace. The kisses he lavished upon her skin were infused with the simmering well of emotion brought on by the impending end of it all, the need to make the last moments count, final memories etched into his mind to make the death that would likely find him easier to endure.

Time wasn't on their side, and they undressed quickly, partially. He felt her hand skimming over his chest under his shirt, and he kissed her hard, so he could feel her teeth beneath her lips. Every lick of her skin was like reacquainting himself with an old friend, one who didn't mind his hurry. It was rushed, hard and fast against the bed, her shirt pushed up but not off, he still wearing cap and socks as he pulsed to orgasm deep within her. He felt frantic scratches across his back, her bare heels digging into him and her normally soft moans turned feral as she gripped every accessible inch of him.

Afterward he didn't have any regret, banished the last of it from his mind. They were going to die, he was certain of it. He hoped he would be the one to die, but within him he knew, it would be her again. The time they'd been granted was borrowed, a deal with the devil called the Illusive Man. One last battle, to be fought with as much as he could muster, an end amongst fire, as he'd always pictured. As long as her kiss lingered on his lips, her scent on his skin, he could die a happy man.

He had absolutely no doubts now that he would die - and what a fitting way to go.

In the end, he closed his eyes after the arms of the Citadel opened, the light seeping in through his closed eyelids. He could still smell her, feel the brush of her hair across his skin. Time slowed down and he inhaled deeply, the memory of her smile making one cross his face. Iladia.

He wanted to be thinking of her, because this was only possible through her constant sacrifice, her determination. There was peace, because everything he'd wanted to say, he had. There was regret, because even though words were said and time was spent, it would never, ever have been enough. Hackett could only hope for an afterlife where he could find her again and they would be as one.

He didn't close his eyes, but watched and stayed on top of everything he could. There was still a battle to fight, even after he realized Shepard made it to the beam of light that would take her to the Citadel. Around him there was shouting, talking, panicking in varying degrees. The Normandy had done a stop in the middle of the battlefield, and he was sure that it was to take the few members of Shepard's ground team to safety, though he couldn't confirm it. She would have gone on alone, he knew, and the gravity of that knowledge weighed down like boulders on his chest.

There would be an end, he knew. Hackett heard his own voice issuing orders, commanding as always, but his mind was with Shepard, up that beam

He didn't know any more until he saw the Citadel's arms open wide and pulse energy. All the blinding light that it shot out, the withdrawal order he barked, it was hazy whenever he tried to recall it afterward. Fogged with grief and shock and a shameful amount of fear, because no one, no one at all could have lived through that. Not even Iladia Shepard.

"Iladia,  
I know you're gone. I saw the Citadel, the energy, the fire. The Crucible Project paid off in the end – didn't it? We watched the Reapers fall down dead, as if someone had pulled the plug from them. Someone did - you. And while I should say thank you for saving us all, I'm having a hard time getting past how dare you leave me alone? How dare you save the world and leave me behind in it, again.

I don't have the luxury of retirement, of finding a place to settle down. Earth is still under martial law and the whole of the galaxy is a mess. Still, I think of our dream to go to Eden Prime, of the days and nights we never got to spend and hope that one day when my eyes don't open into this life again, I'll be there with you."

Hackett could never finish the letter, because his eyes always filled with hot, bitter tears. It was too much to lose Iladia and still keep going. It felt wrong – he was too raw and angry to rebuild anything. But he knew she wouldn't want him to feel like that. So he kept going, because he wasn't sure what he'd do if he had to stay still. Steven was so tired, but there was too much to do for him to quit. He wasn't sure Iladia would welcome him if he didn't give rebuilding as much effort as he gave war.


	12. Pieces Of A Future Snapshot

"Because I could not stop for Death  
He kindly stopped for me;  
The carriage held but just ourselves  
And Immortality." - Emily Dickinson

 

Shepard woke up in a hospital, groggy as all get out. She knew it was a hospital before she even opened her eyes, because it had the smell, sterile and steel, clean and orderly. The overhead fluorescent light was visible even through her closed eyes, and she gradually opened them. Her neck hurt when she tried to turn it, so Iladia was limited to the scope of her bleary eyes, which felt tired and too large for her face as she looked around. There was nothing familiar about the place, but it looked like a makeshift building that was repurposed into a hospital. It had the requisite beeping machines, a bed and a chair, but little else. There were no windows in her view, but a dim light that buzzed above her head.

Soon after she woke up, a nurse came in the room. "Who are you?" Shepard asked, the words slurred and half nonsense as they came out of her malformed mouth.

"As I live and breathe! Hold on, let me get the doctor. I knew those cybernetics would help us patch you up, I told them so myself Commander. Oh, they'll be so happy that you're awake!" The woman babbled as she looked over the machines. She wasn't much older than Shepard, but reminded her of her mother's side of the family – Irish brogue and red hair. For some reason that small familiarity put Shepard at ease. "I'll be right back." She announced before whisking out of the room.

Her vision was clearing, but there wasn't much to see. The room was bare, basic but serviceable. It reminded her of Jump Zero.

"It's good to see you awake, Commander Shepard." A familiar voice said, and there Dr. Chakwas entered, trailed by the nurse from earlier. "But Miranda was confident you would make it, and she is the expert in this matter.”

"How long?"

"About a month since we found you, and that wasn't too long after the battle ended." Chakwas informed her.

"Reapers gone?" Shepard asked slowly. Moving her mouth was strange and clumsy and her face ached when she did.

"Oh yes, you defeated them quite soundly, however you did it. There's still much to do, but the state of the galaxy isn't your concern right now." She hesitated before adding, “The admiral ordered us to stay silent about you being here, so no one will come bother you. I expect he'll be ever more tight-lipped than before now that you're awake.”

“Which admiral?” Iladia asked, her voice slurring. Had her mother been here?

It was the other nurse that answered, Chakwas busy with her omnitool taking readings. “Admiral Hackett of course!” She said, making the name sound strangely lyrical with her accent. “He's one of the few admirals left, but the whole planet's under martial law and he's the head of the Alliance, so a lot of it is up to him. As an Alliance marine, you fell under his jurisdiction, no matter what the French government says.” In answer to her unasked question, the nurse answered, “We found you in France, not London where everyone was looking.” She patted Shepard's bed. “Get some rest. There will be plenty of time for questions later, Commander.”

Dr Chakwas made a noise of agreement and then looked up at Shepard. “Your mother was just here. She'll be glad to know that you're awake. It's wonderful to have you back, Commander.” She saluted as she smiled at Shepard from the end of the bed.

Shepard smiled as she fell asleep.

#####

Iladia didn't look much like her old self these days. The long, heavy curls that she used to coil into tight buns to keep away from her face had been loosened and singed, and mostly lost. Her head had been shaved anyway, so she'd started from scratch, and though her hair grew back in the familiar ringlets, there was much more grey than there had been before. It suited her, and she wasn't given to vanity anyway. As if she could be, with her hair poking out in all directions, unmanageable. When she did wrangle it into a style, it fell somewhere between her ear lobes and jaw and made a piss poor ponytail. Most days, she settled for pinning the front away from her face and let the rest fly. It was a relief just to be able to brush her own hair these days, she wasn't going to quibble about the state of it.

Besides her hair, Iladia had gained weight from months of limited physical activity. Though she was recovering, her body had a plumpness that she was unaccustomed to normally. Her face, surrounded by the nest of silver streaked ringlets, was lush in a way it hadn't been before, and weight sat on her hips and gathered in her breasts, changing her rangy, athletic body into something more sumptuous looking. The weight didn't bother her, but she knew that with her cybernetic implants and all the other gene therapy she'd had that she wouldn't get much heavier. Still, it pleased her – she liked the way it felt, strong in a way she hadn't been before, a body recovering and nourishing itself.

But mostly, she felt different. Not accomplished, not really – there was still too much work for her to truly feel like she'd done something more than be a cog in the solution. Iladia was happy to be alive and not fighting, the sense of urgency and foreboding finally gone. She felt free and hopeful, like her ghosts had finally achieved the rest they'd so desired.

Hannah Shepard was sitting in the makeshift hospital next to her daughter's bed, the two of them watching the vid screen and laughing when Hackett opened the door to her room. Old television broadcasts had been found and they were watching classic tv together, the grainy black and white picture flitting across the screen. It amazed her that all of the shows had once been performed in front of a live audience. It was the small amusements that helped her get through the days, or at least the time between visitors and appointments with doctors. Iladia had been in the hospital for what seemed like far too long, and wasn't even close to being ready for discharge, the lingering injuries from her last battle still too severe.

But she was alive, awake and working towards getting better. There was a lot of damage, things that medicine nor time could heal. She'd never be as she was before, but then again without Cerberus, Iladia likely wouldn't even be alive.

"Admiral." Hannah said, starting to rise and salute him. He saluted back, though he wasn't here for anything official.

"I've just come to check on my wife." He said, giving her a tired grin. Hannah had married them, once Shepard was able to make her desire to be married known. The bride wore a hospital gown and couldn't get out of bed, but Hackett had never seen her more beautiful.

He sat down on the other side of Iladia's bed, and took her hand in his, her left hand, the one that bore a ring that matched his own. He would kiss her cheek, but he'd been advised to stay away from her head, she'd had surgery to restore more of her hearing a few days before, and he didn't want to jostle her unduly. Instead he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the soft skin of the back of it before pressing it to his cheek. She let her hand drift over his check and he kissed the open palm before it fell back to her side.

"Steven, how is it?" Iladia asked. She was always looking for news of the recovery, of the outside world. The quarians were some of the saviors of the galaxy now, because their know-how in fixing just about everything from environmental systems to medical technology was helping to patch the battered and fractured galactic community back together. Just as the slow time in this lonely bed helped Iladia patch her battered and fractured self back together.

"Not as bad as yesterday." He said, giving her his standard reply. 

There were food shortages and riots, not to mention the ash that barely let the sun through most days and the crumbling infrastructure. There were staggering amounts of bodies and orphans, and not enough resources. Food took time to grow, and people needed supplies now. There were also amazing acts of heroism and selflessness that happened every day, kindness in the streets and the kind of brotherhood amongst humans that was unprecedented in their short, bloody history. But all of this was common knowledge – things he didn't have to say. What he usually did was ask her opinion, let her advise on the things he oversaw. It helped her feel like she could still contribute in some way, though she didn't even know if she wanted it to be known that she was alive. There was too much pressure in being Commander Shepard, and people might pressure her for stories that they needn't hear. Some tales of war weren't for the public consumption, not yet anyway.

They'd talk later, once her mother was gone, to rest. Hannah had taken injuries of her own after the battle. Her injuries weren't nearly as serious as her daughter's had been and Admiral Shepard was working on a limited schedule to help with the rebuilding and keeping morale up. Iladia felt guilty that her mother spent so much time at her bedside, but it was wonderful in a way, to be so close to the people she loved after so long apart. Only seeing her crew would make it complete.

"Ah, that's how I know it's still bad out there." She said, giving him a teasing, lopsided smile as she did. "Is it time to go?"

"Almost. We have a minute or two." He replied. 

"Let's get to it. No sense in waiting to get old." She said, still smiling at him. 

Hackett chuckled at her, and she playfully batted her eyelashes at him. Her husband. She was still reeling at the thought of it, but here he was, right with her. But they'd done it, officiated by her mother from the hospital bed, the two of them promised what little life they both had left to each other. It had been the shortest of ceremonies, but sweet and heartfelt, witnessed by the same nurse that was there when she woke up. The woman now called her Mrs. Hackett. They spent their 'honeymoon' in this room, where he listened to her voice, weak and halting, as she told him what happened on the Citadel. It was more like an exorcism than a romantic interlude, but it brought them ever closer to one another.

Steven was overseeing much, but he joked that it was less work than the Crucible Project had been. He came every day to take her to physical therapy, even if he had to return to work straight after seeing her off. He pushed her when she was in a wheelchair and then helped her walk when she had gained enough strength to not need it. Tonight, he held out his hand and helped her push herself off the bed. Hannah opened the door for them and Iladia only leaned a little on her husband as the pair walked out the door and down the hall.


End file.
